Another Tomorrow
by kyrilu
Summary: Each coming day is a new one.  The sun still continues to rise, however, no matter what happens.  So let's always stay together, to experience a new tomorrow.  A drabble/oneshot series.
1. Lavendar Wind

ON LAVENDER WIND

Summary: There are many things you can regret. But to cross a bridge and move on, you have to forgive. Subtle hints of KaiCon, focused on Aoko. Oneshot.

Rating: K

Genre: Spiritual/Hurt/Comfort

A/N: Hints of KaiCon. I apologize to those who think this is fully Kaito and Conan – with Aoko in here and all that. Totally random...when have I written stories like these before…? Ugh, those plunnies… By the way, I have no beta, so beware of mistakes and errors!

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It's a starry night.

The sky seems darker than usual, and the wane, waxing crescent moon is obscured by heavy clouds.

And yet, tiny glimmers shimmer through, plainly visible to the naked eye.

A dark haired young woman looks up at them, head tilting upwards, strands of hair falling to her shoulders gracefully. There's wistfulness in her brown eyes, glazed, as she thinks of another time. She pauses, to enjoy the sky, and remembers…

…a mocking grin that haunted her – always…

…the glint of a single monocle that guarded a violet eye…scarlet blood…jet black gun…a bang…

Betrayal…

But she forces those ugly thoughts out of her mind, locks them away in the jail cell of memories, stomping on them and sweeping them afar, pushing them under pleasanter times.

No, she mustn't think of that. She must not, will not – would not ever again. And yet, under the crack of memory's door, using a key she couldn't bring herself to destroy, it is persistent, reminding her in the tiniest of whispers, creeping along on stealthy cat feet…

The wind stirs impatiently, as if sensing the woman's anguish. Her long hair is blown back, flying outwards, their strands brushing on her face.

Where – where was she again, anyway?

A bridge, a thought whispers into the shell of her ear. A bridge, where choices are made, decisions carried out, roads taken, bridges crossed, bridges burnt, and bridges built - simply a bridge.

And you're simply waiting.

Her shoes tread softly on grey stones that construct the bridge's surface. Below, water flows and ebbs through a narrow channel, lapping at grass-covered shores. The soothing aroma of lavender flowers carries on the breeze. It's soothing – to close her eyes and relax, feel the cool breeze, and to merely listen.

Dim lamp lights perching on the bridge's walls illuminate her crossing, but she can't see what's ahead, she can't go there. No matter how hard she tries, no matter how many times – she cannot cross that bridge. It's as if something is keeping her back, forcing her to remain on only one half of the structure. Like an invisible wall that repels her whole self, existing solely to keep her out. Everything is eerily silent – there are no other people.

In the far-off distance, a clock tower chimes, sonorous gongs resonating towards the bridge. In the moment, time seems to speed up and shift…and everything seems to become louder.

The wind picks up and howls, whistling through dew covered grass. Faster and faster it swirls, as if trying to compel everything it gusts to bend, to break before its strength. The water's tide picks up, ramming against the bridge like ocean waves, sloshing noisily. The lamp lights flicker hesitantly…

And the far-off clock's bongs begin to pound, shaking the earth and rattling the sky.

And abruptly, everything falls silent, as if the bridge is enclosed in the eye of a storm.

The young woman hears the sounds of shoes padding on the stones, approaching her. A small, shadowed figure strolls into view.

The lamplights waver for one more time until the woman can clearly distinguish the other. The shadows begin to clear.

To her surprise, it's a young boy about six or seven years old who is there to greet her. He seemed so familiar…but there seemed to be something missing from him. But besides the strange emotion of familiarity, he is a stranger to her. If she did know him before, it was barely.

He gives her a lopsided smile, blue eyes gleaming in the starlight. "It's a nice night, isn't it, Aoko-niichan?" There's something off about him - something that doesn't feel exactly right. Maybe it's his eyes – they're so unsettling, eyes of an old man, almost. Eyes of a man who has been through so much, full of pain that will just keep on growing…

Her throat dry, the young woman, Nakamori Aoko, blinks in incredulity. "How – how did you know my name…?"

"Somebody sent me here to talk to you – somebody who knows you very well. He can't face you himself, so he sent me instead." Deep in thought, the boy shuffles his feet in the air, as if dribbling an invisible soccer ball. Suddenly, the boy says, "Don't you want to cross this bridge?"

Put off by the change of subject, the young woman stammers, "I-I guess so. I've been trying to, but I can't get through."

"If you really want to go, then what are you waiting for?"

Even though it sounds absurd, the woman replies truthfully. "I can't. Something keeps me from crossing."

"Then you don't want to go," the boy tells her plainly. "You still have something to do here."

"Let me tell you a story," the child says softly, in response to Aoko's confused silence. "Once upon a time, a boy left behind an important friend by keeping dangerous secrets. She's not just a regular friend, she's a best friend. He's always by her side, but she doesn't know his secrets. The reason he lies is to protect her, to make sure that she'll be safe. He's gotten in a lot of trouble and danger, and he wants to make everything right.

"He watches her and is always there for her, but he always lies. She doesn't know he's exactly there. So she misses him as much as he misses her – after all, they're close friends, and they care about each other. The boy knows being with her can get her hurt or even killed, so he decides to lie. But she's out of harm's way, kept in the dark, yes, but safe."

A shadow crosses the boy's deep blue eyes. "The girl feels betrayed, of course – she knows there's something wrong. She may find the partial truth, and become tormented all the while, blaming the boy. She'll lash out to him; hate him, for deceiving her. She'll cry and yell and scream." The child's voice became hoarse, quavering and quivering, shaking and trembling.

"It hurts the boy even more, because he's trying to protect her the whole time. He's sorry for lying to her, for making her lonely, but…for just one single moment, can't she understand, and forgive him? So he decides to tell her the truth. But by that time…by that time it may be too late." The dark haired boy falls quiet, reflecting.

"Too...late…?" Aoko asks quietly, still not understanding the purpose of the story.

"She's either moved on and decides to forget about him," the boy murmurs, pain in his tone of voice, regret shown clearly on his face. "Or he couldn't save her in time from evil."

And at the last sentence, he inclines his head to one side, in Aoko's direction. "Move on, Nakamori Aoko. Your mother is waiting for you. And he's sorry – so understand and forgive."

"But…"

"I told you my story. It's almost exactly the same as his."

Mustering her courage, Aoko whispers, "Who…?"

"It must be hard to remember, after all this time," the boy says gently, understanding shining from his deep blue eyes. He meets her baffled gaze evenly. "You know my name, and the name of my beloved."

As if in a trance, Aoko takes a step forward, poking a foot through. And she's crossing the bridge, slowly and hesitantly.

Her shoes tread on the stones, and she's almost there. A golden gate seems to appear out of nowhere, waiting for her to open it.

On the other side of the gate, bright light shines through, and beautiful music drifts around. A sweet scent wafts through her nose, and she inhales in it. And she hears a voice calling out to her…

Suddenly, her hands, poised to open the gate, falters, and she turns to look back at the boy. "Aren't you coming?"

"I cannot," the boy mutters, averting his longing gaze. "Not I, nor him."

It is they, a thought whispers on golden wind, they who bear the curse of immortality.

Aoko unbolts the gate lock, and the bolt slides. "I-Thank you."

A memory flashes through her mind, a figure in white talking to a little child wearing oversized glasses. A detective and a thief…

She smiles sincerely as she walks through the gate, pausing to look back at the boy with a grateful wave.

"Thank you, Kudou Shinichi…and Kaito."

From the shadows near the bridge, a figure flashes an old, familiar grin. He looks as he always had before, all excepting scarlet eyes, deep red like the tears of a ruby.

Kuroba Kaito takes the young boy's hand as they walk away from the golden gate that they can never enter, and retreat back to the world of the living. And they leave, the fragrance of lavender still lingering…

As they continue to walk across their own endless bridge – together.

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A/N: Crazy…I think there was even supposed to be a train in here somewhere. But I guess I cut that out, that'd probably make this even more confusing. And Conan was supposed to be yelling at Aoko…and she was supposed to be alive. I guess I left that out, too.

Did anyone understand the story I'm trying to get across?


	2. Transcendence

Transcendence

"One year," a dark haired young man whispered, the words rolling slowly off his tongue like a prayer. "It's been one year."

Like a child, he parted his lips and tilted his head backwards, tasting the raindrops that landed inside his mouth. Maybe it was just his imagination, but they seemed to have a bitter tang.

No, not bitter – like salt.

Salt…? Oh…

Tears…he was crying. But it wasn't a sobbing kind of crying, just a quiet mourning as teardrops slid down his cheeks out from his violet eyes, mixing in with the fresh rain.

Today was when…when that happened. A silent whimper escaped the man's mouth.

With bile rising in his throat, the young man stumbled feverishly, images flashing through his mind. Panting hard, his face pale, he forced his trembling body to sit down on a wooden bench.

A steady hand placed itself on his shoulders firmly, radiating calm reassurance. The young man turned around, surprised, and found himself face to face to a blond man about his age.

"Kuroba-kun, are you feeling ill?" the newcomer questioned, concern lacing his accented tone. "You could catch a cold out in this weather."

The young man shrugged carelessly, running a graceful hand through his drenched, messy hair. "I'm fine," he answered hoarsely, speaking of his physical health and not of his whacked-out emotions. He shook the other's hand off his shoulder in a rough movement, his hand furiously scrubbing to wipe off his tears.

There was silence for a minute as the blond man contemplated how to respond. "Is there anything wrong at all?" he decided to say, evidently noticing his companion's state.

Repeating his previous words, the dark haired man whispered, "One year – it's been one year."

He traced the smooth line of his palm, a quiet smile on his face. This place was where he had first met…him. But even though he was smiling now, his vision was still blurred by falling tears.

"Since when?" the other inquired, confusion in his blue eyes. Uncomfortable by the rain, he adjusted his jacket hood, tugging at its brim.

"You were in London when it happened, Hakuba, so you don't know. You may have heard of it, but probably didn't think about it much." Kuroba Kaito heaved out a sigh full of grief.

"Today…a year ago…" Hakuba Saguru mused thoughtfully, trying to recall the newspapers he had read in the past. "I believe it had something to do with the fall of a large criminal organization."

"Yes," Kaito agreed. "And the…" his voice began to break up, "…the death of the detective who helped initiate it."

A sudden revelation occurred to Hakuba, and he stared at the other man, shocked. "So…you were involved?"

"Kaitou Kid was." It was then Hakuba's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to interrupt, but decided it was best not to say anything.

Kaito began to speak hurriedly, fumbling over the words' syllables as he forced them to come out. "Kid was there when they planned the attack. Kid was there when they ambushed the building. Kid was there when there were gunshots and death all around. And Kid was there…"

In a choked voice, the man whispered out the damning words that described the event…the event that caused his life to fall into shambles. "And Kid was there to hold Kudou Shinichi's dying body as the detective told him three words on his last breath…"

Three words – three words that could have been said every single day afterwards, but couldn't any more. Three words that he probably would never be able to say to anyone else, because they existed for somebody long gone…

Overhead, the large clock tower chimed, and Kaito could almost see a blurred helicopter hovering in the sky…a waving projector screen fluttering on the clock face…a dark night sky - but it was only his imagination. The sky was only an ugly grey full of bloated clouds, pouring torrents of rain down on the earth.

"Do you mean that…?" Hakuba left the sentence hanging, his mouth wide open as he began to understand the magician's underlying implications

"Yeah," Kaito murmured. "He told me that he loved me. And he died before he was able to hear the words come from me."

Sympathetically, and rather awkwardly, Hakuba stammered, "I'm sorry, Kuroba-kun. I-I had no idea."

With a smile, the magician nodded his thanks. "It's alright," he convinced the other, pulling himself together. "I can't change the past. I've accepted this long ago."

The wind breezed through the air, brushing aside the man's bangs and revealing the intensity of his violet eyes. There was sadness and sorrow…but there was still gentle strength shining through.

"Even though he's gone," Kaito breathed, half to himself. "I still love him and he still loves me. That's all that's important."

The man cracked a grin, gazing at the sky. With all the rain, it seemed as if the heavens were falling down on top of him. "I can see that love…everywhere. Certain places at certain times, even if only a little glimpse – I can see him. It'll be at crime scenes that he used to have a blast solving, or whenever I see anyone reading a Sherlock Holmes book, or at one of Kid's heists. Sometimes he's is smiling or laughing, or maybe crying or yelling. Sometimes I think he hates me because we're not together. And sometimes I think he loves me because we will, eventually.

"And sometimes I remember the moment when he left me…and I'm lonely. But our feelings aren't gone, just because he is – love transcends death, after all, and there's always something that remains."

At those words, Kaito hauled himself back onto his feet while the rain continued to pour down, pulling out a single blood-red rose as he started towards the cemetery.


	3. Our Fairy Tale

**Our Fairy Tale.**

"Once upon a time, a white angel descended upon the night," a dark haired boy breathed softly, raising his arms up to the spiraling snow drifts.

Snowflakes brushed against his pale cheeks, and for a moment, the child was reminded of a white gloved hand stroking his cheek…but the memory vanished as fast as it had surfaced.

With a sigh, he let his arms fall limply to his sides, muttering, "Fairy tales don't exist."

Neither did magic nor miracles…nor wishes coming true. Scoffing inwardly, the boy trudged through the snow, his small footprints leaving indentations on the ground.

"Stupid thief," he crossly grumbled. He stifled the urge to stomp his feet immediately, however – even if he looked like a child, he needn't necessarily act like one.

Even though he was in a foul mood, he enjoyed surveying the winter night. Icicles hung from snow-covered trees, glimmering like diamonds. Everything was calm and tranquil as the moonlight gently shone down on the ice laden world, cold wind ghosting throughout the air.

But he still wasn't completely happy. A tear threatened to trickle out of a bespectacled eye, which the boy quickly scrubbed at with an icy hand. Shoving his hand into his pockets, the child gritted his teeth, struggling to fight a losing battle. Another teardrop gave away, followed by another, and another, and another…

Damn it. He shouldn't be like this. He shouldn't be affected by that idiot so easily.

Sniffling, he whispered again, "O-once upon a time, a white angel descended upon the night."

Suddenly, a low voice spoke up from somewhere close to him. "From the heavens, he flew to the earth, seeking out a holy treasure. Yet the thing he found there wasn't what he was he was originally in search of, but something more precious and beautiful." A dark haired man began to murmur comforting noises into the shell of the child's ear.

"K-k…" the boy stammered, without turning around.

Arms enveloped themselves around the child's chest tightly, and the newcomer let out a relieved gust of air. "Sorry, tantei-kun." He ran his hands back and forth over the boy's pounding heart, as if trying to soothe its frantic rhythm.

"And so," the man continued quietly, "like the way many situations in this world are solved, he stole the new treasure to keep to himself." At these words, a wide grin began to spread through his face, violet eyes lighting up with mischievousness. "So, shall I steal you away?" he asked eagerly.

"Hell no," the boy snorted, regaining his composure. But he clung to the arms wound around him, the corners of his mouth upturning slightly.

"It's your turn to say sorry," Kuroba Kaito rebuked playfully, nipping at the nape of the boy's neck, teeth sinking in gently.

With a shiver, the boy known as Edogawa Conan gave in, relaxing into his lover's grasp. "Sorry," he garbled, barely coherent. And he felt his heart skip a beat as Kaito gave him such a tender, loving smile…leaning in to give him a soft, chaste kiss…

Even in the frost, it didn't seem so bad to stay like that – they were together, after all.

And they actually did live happily ever after…


	4. Read These Drabbles Three

Title: Flight.

Author: Endless.

Rating: K+.

Genre: Romance.

Pairing: KaiShin.

Summary:Do you like flying? KaiShin drabble fluff.

Disclaimer: I do not own Meitantei Conan/Case Closed or Magic Kaito. They are the official property of Gosho Aoyoma.

**Flight**

When Kaito was a baby, Toichi held him up high in the air, and asked eagerly, "Do you like flying?"

And the infant giggled, wiggling his arms and legs erratically.

When Kaito was five years old, Chikage took him to a Kaitou Kid heist and pointed at the thief, who was soaring in the night with his white hang-glider. "Do _you_ like flying?" she asked him.

And the boy nodded, grinning with excitement, a sparkling gleam in his eyes.

When Kaito was sixteen years old, Hakuba cornered the thief on a rooftop once again. "Do you like flying that much?" the blond asked him sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

And the teenager, behind his monocle and hat, chuckled lightly, before taking off.

When Kaito was seventeen years old, he scooped up Edogawa Conan for a flight on his unfurled white wings. "Do you like flying?" he asked quietly, running a hand gently through the detective's dark hair.

And his lover smirked and laughed, voice almost lost in the breeze. "Not as much as you do."

Title: Whispers.

Author: Endless.

Rating: K+.

Genre: Romance.

Pairing: Vaguely KaiShin.

Summary:Shinichi could still hear hushed, hurried voices. Possible KaiShin drabble.

Disclaimer: I do not own Meitantei Conan/Case Closed or Magic Kaito. They are the official property of Gosho Aoyoma.

**Whispers**

Shinichi hated hearing whispers.

His parents fought sometimes when he was younger. They murmured things that they didn't want him to know. Behind closed doors, he could catch fragments of their low heated voices battling back and forth, arguing about issues that he couldn't fully comprehend.

He hated it. He hated not understanding; he hated overhearing vague, lingering words which he could never decipher and process into his childish brain.

One of the worse arguments he could remember occurred a week before his parents left him to independently fend for himself, to live alone in Japan without any family left to take care of him.

And they went, taking away their frenzied mutterings with them.

On bad nights, Shinichi could still hear hushed, hurried voices. They ushered in the dead of night, awakening him from slumber. They frightened him, beckoning him to shiver and shudder with apprehension. No matter how hard he tried, he was afraid.

Usually, he struggled to distract himself, snatching a book and flicking the lights as fast as he could. He focused his mind to lose itself in a story, skimming page after page until his eyelids drooped closed and he finally could rest.

The voices would abate temporarily, but sometimes they found a way to creep back in.

But now, Shinichi switched off the lamplight, jerking the beaded cord down with a sharp click. He set a novel aside on top of a bedside table.

The teenager slid under the bedcovers and wriggled himself under a warm arm, nuzzling into the chest of his lover. He heard steady heartbeats pounding near his forehead, soft and reassuring.

Something akin to a smile flickered on his lips as he glanced sideways, and drifted to asleep.

He could no longer hear the whispers any more.

Title: A Warrior's Medal.

Author: Endless.

Rating: K+.

Genre: Romance.

Pairing: KaiCon.

Summary:You didn't need a warrior's heart, or a warrior's soul, to chase after the justice you believe in. KaiShin. Set after Movie 14.

Disclaimer: I do not own Meitantei Conan/Case Closed or Magic Kaito. They are the official property of Gosho Aoyoma.

"You're good," Kaitou Kid had said, a light smile dancing across his face, indigo eyes glimmering down at him. "And here's a warrior's medal."

When he closed his eyes, Shinichi could recall Kid's gentle touch on his cheek, silk gloves pressing the bandage firmly down on his skin. He could still feel the pride and relief and joy and excitement which radiated from the thief in bright bursts. Every time he imagined that moment, he couldn't help chuckle softly to himself.

Really…a warrior? Quite an overdramatic choice of words, but that was to be expected from such a theatrical magician.

That damn Kid. Frustrating, infuriating, exasperating Kid. Reckless, untouchable, and utterly, utterly insane Kid.

Shinichi was probably imagining that tinge of fondness which threatened to wreck his train of thought. Or, more possibly, divert the tracks and cause multiple trains to collide.

…yeah. Where was he again?

Oh, right – Kid was an annoying idiot.

After all, fighting wasn't something to be proud about. Shinichi shouldn't have to be solving cases almost every day. People were supposed have morals, to know the difference between right and wrong, and use their judgment to try not to do the wrong thing. To not…hurt.

Everybody fought for what they thought what was right.

But whether or not it was the really right thing or not was a different story.

You didn't need a warrior's heart, or a warrior's soul, to chase after the justice you believe in.

"There are no warriors," he whispered to himself, absently stroking the tan Band-Aid stuck on his cheek.

And then he caught a glimpse of a thief in his mind's eye, regal and strong in that snow white, immaculate glory.

Perhaps…

A/N: Yes, that Band-Aid did belong to Ran. So sue me. I still think it was adorable.


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